The Raven
by StageConspire
Summary: Edgar Allen Poe's The Raven in story format. I am no good with summaries.


Books were strung about at my feet, and an old, worn volume lay on my lap, my head in my hands. I was tired, I hadn't slept in days. I nearly let myself succumb to sleep when there was a knock at my door.

"Tis some visitor." I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door." I doubted it was anyone worth my time on this cold December night. My fire was reduced to burning embers, casting ghosts on the floor. My bookcases were bare. I missed them so.

My curtains shook with a gust of wind. It frightened me and yet I found pleasure in it. I stood to answer my door.

"Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door." I assured myself. "Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door. That it is, and nothing more." I slowly felt myself grow stronger at these words, and I could no longer live without knowing who it was. "Sir," I called, "or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore; but the fact is I was napping and so gently you came rapping and so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door, that I was scarce was sure I heard you-." It was then that I opened my chamber door. There was no one there but the darkness.

I was afraid again as I looked up and down the corridor, expecting some frightful demon to shriek at me. This was no dream. I doubted myself that I was asleep. The silence was then broken as I whispered in the darkness, "Lenore!" My walls replied with an echo. "Lenore!"

I sighed in fear, and returned to my chamber. Something made me jump. It was yet another tapping, slightly louder than it had been the first time. To assure my rapidly beating heart, I murmured to myself, "Surely…surely that is something at my window lattice: let me see then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore…let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore; tis the wind and nothing more." To prove to myself that it really was merely the wind, I flung open the shutter, still expecting a demon of sorts.

Through the open window came a raven. Imagine that, a raven. He perched upon my bust of Pallas just above my chamber door. He didn't move. I couldn't help myself. I just had to smile.

"Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou art sure no craven." The raven opened his beak, and he seemed to croak "Nevermore."

I was amazed by this horrid fowl to say something such as that so plainly, however its answer bore no meaning. I think we can agree, though, that few human beings have had a bird sit about his chamber door. A bird or a beast upon a sculptured bust above his chamber door that croaks "Nevermore."

However, the bird merely spoke that one word to me. He said nothing else, nor did he move. I stared at him for a moment before murmuring to myself. "Other friends have flown before. On the morrow, he will leave me, as my hopes have flown before." The bird spoke up again. "Nevermore." I was startled at the sudden reply.

"Doubtless," I began, "what it utters is its only stock and store caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful disaster followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore. Till the dirges of his Hope that melancholy burden bore of 'never-nevermore'."

The raven still remained perched above my chamber door. I pulled up a cushioned seat in front of the bird and the bust. It was at the moment when I sat when I realized that maybe the bird was an omen of somesort, with its croaking of that one word. Nevermore.

Perhaps my eyes were tricking me, I cannot say, but the air grew denser. The raven's eyes seemed to burn into my heart.

"Wretch!" I cried. "God hath lent thee! By these angels he hath send thee! Respite, respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore! Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe and forget this lost Lenore!" May I quote the raven? "Nevermore."

"Prophet!" I shrieked. "Thing of evil! Prophet still, if bird or devil. Whether Tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore desolate, yet all undaunted on this desert land enchanted. On this home by horror haunted, tell me truly I implore. Is there…is there a balm in Gilead? Tell me! Tell me! I implore!"

Quoth the raven: "Nevermore."


End file.
